


Silver Fire

by Eluvian



Category: Original Work
Genre: Elves, Just a thought, M/M, Masters, Silver hair, Slavery, Slaves, Sympathy, but a beautiful one, ceremonial fire, desire for freedom, kiss, reversed night, when a thought wants to dress up and becomes something random
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 10:36:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eluvian/pseuds/Eluvian
Summary: In the Reversed Night slaves become masters and masters become slaves. They can ask whatever they want, they are free - for one night. Naraven and the silver-haired master - who is not his - have been close. More close than to anyone else.Naraven, a young boy has a very strange request to his master. But this is not important.





	Silver Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys.  
> My fault is having an imagination that cannot be controlled.  
> This was just a thought, I don't know, between dreams and reality, really, but it looked so beautiful I had to built up some kind of world and ideas around those few seconds that emerged in my mind.  
> I hope you enjoy. No purpose, really, just to let it go free. It's good to let things go free.  
> Also, I have a weekness for cute elven slaves. Yeah. A huge weekness, even though I'm not the fan of one-sided dominance in relationships. But I guess that's the point...  
> If you would like a sequel or something than do tell. I will be able.

 

The older elf was standing not far.. The young boy kept looking at him like a caged animal watches the stars. Then, he looked at the stars.

It was the Reversed Night. Now those who served could become the masters and just for these few hours they could wish or command anything. Except killing the masters, or anyone else, or do any harm to them, but these restrictions were reasonable, he knew that.

For days he’d been wondering what to ask. His master, Raven, because of his black hair... he... didn’t want anything from him. He decided it will be one of the usual things, what most slaves ask on this day. Freedom from their obligations, drinks, other slaves for sexual pleasure... He’d thought about these, he was sure he would quit all his chores today, if, after all, he’s given the chance, but that was not enough. This wouldn’t make this night... special.

Sleeping with any of those girls who were usually offered was out of the question. He wouldn’t do that to them, no matter how curious he was of such things, but he was not curious what it would feel like to force somebody to... to do anything. It was against his nature.

His name was Naraven, but he was rarely called by that name. Slave. Boy. Lad. You there. Or just a whistle. A tap on the furniture. A glance.

He was annoyed. The Reversed Night only awoke unreasonable hopes in him, but he knew it was not reality. If a slave went too far at these times, there would be a horrible retribution, he was sure of it. After all, the slave would spend the remaining 364 days with the master he’s humiliated... Legally everything was free, but only if one took the risks.

He watched the silver-haired shape standing by the common ceremonial fire. Zerlain’s hair was similar to his, which was strange, since almost every master had dark hair and brown, brown skin like a bowl of chocolate you could drown in. (But it didn’t touch you gently, oh no, if it touched you, it was hitting, careless, hard hitting. Negligent slaps.)

Not Zerlain’s. He was pale, blue eyed, he could be mistaken for... for one of _his_ kind. Were it not from the obvious, so-far radiating pride of his, that could be felt when you were near him. Besides pride, a kinf od non-explainable sadness lingered on his face.

Naraven walked into his masters’ quarters and asked a very surprising thing from him.  ’I have come up with a wish, master.’

’Very well.’ Master looked up from his papers. He was busy, he always was. He never really cared about what Nar did. This was good on one side, but... not always. Nar knew that he should have been grateful. He wasn’t being beaten, scolded everyday, or given enormous amount of disgusting, exhausting tasks. He was only – neglected. And for some reason it hurt more than anything. ’Go on, what is it?’ Nar stared into those non-caring eyes with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t completely explain even to himself.

’I’d like you to make a drawing.’

The shock on Master Raven’s face almost made him smile. ’A... drawing?’

’Yes. A drawing of... something that makes you think or you find beautiful.’ Naraven thought of a painting of some kind, but he didn’t really care, he only wanted Master to be dealing with something that would open his mind a little. He was ready to be laughed at or called naive, but he was ready to face these. He didn’t care, it was his night... Most of all he just wanted to be left alone.

’Well... I don’t know what you have in mind, but if that will satisfy you...’ Master chucled awkwardly and smiled without comprehension. ’Fine, if there’s anything else... you know...’ He moioned with his hand and Nar understood that he was no longer needed. He bowed his head. ’Thank you, master. And...’ He swallowed.

’Yes,’

’Am I allowed to walk around the fire and maybe... in the forest? I-I will come back by-’

’Understand for once... you are allowed to do anything, that’s the point of the whole thing. You don’t need to ask for it. Is it so hard?’

Naraven blushed. It was. It was indeed hard for him to form words, sentences that sounded like orders. To state something and not ask for it, not plead for it and expect punishment or ridicule. To say I will do this or that, instead of May I...

Shaking, he left the room. The cool air outside and the scent of smoke calmed his nerve a little.

His deep breath was interrupted. ’A wise request.’ Zerlain’s voice cut through the relative silence like a sharp blade. His voice was like smoke, like the colour of his hair.

He was leaning against the building’s wall, one leg pulled up, his arms crossed in frnt of his chest. Nar thought of a statue. Or at least a painting. But neither would show the memory of the sound of his words, his scent, that could be felt if you were close enough. He smelled of humid wood, leaves, fur, feathers, of wild flowers and night rain. He smelled like the forest. Proud, like an elderly deer, hasty and shy, like a young rabbit, stubborn and wild like a wolf, it couldn’t be told which one he was.

When Nar first met him, Zerlain had a girl as a slave. She was more of a worker and companion to him, but after a year she died – no one talked about it, but she must have – and Zerlain remained a lonely master. Rather a researches, a scribe. The grandmaster offered him to get a replacement for the girl – Ishariel – but Zerlain refused. His title remained, but he did everything for himself. It resulted in the other masters looking slightly down on him, but they dared nor quarrel with him. Zerlain had a strange kind of respect. Everybody kept their distance, since he had a kind of aura that most felt cold and thus avoided him. He provided good information, he did his tasks right, so no one complained. He only had the strange glances to deal with.

’What else could I have asked?’ He shrugged. He didn’t know if he wanted to hide or talk through the night. Maybe both.

’You know, I’m honest. I always am. He probably won’t satisfy your needs though. Whatever you have in your mind is more than he ever will.’

Nar swallowed. He stopped. He did not dare say anything with words, only with his motions and looks. _This should not be said._

’But it was. And it has to be.’

’Since when do you-’

’Since when I was born. It was hard enough to keep it a secret from you.’

’Where are you taking me?’

Zerlain stopped and looked at him. The fire, like a small local sun painted his face red and it was so very hard not to touch. But seventeen years of subordinaton did their work. ’Nowhere. Just walking. It’s not so stressful.’

’So what is it like? You see what I think?’

’Sometimes your mind actually forms the words in the order you would say them. They are easy to catch. And it is so easy for me to say this because I have planned it for long.’

’Why?’

His shining bright eyes held such sparks of hope. The light at the end of the tunnel. ’Because this is the night of freedom’ Zer sighed and spread his arms. (He found himself giving him this nickname. He heart the words "Insolent child" in his mind.) So full of irony and yet so appealing. And so hopeful. Nar was afraid, very afraid. Hope was the most dangerous thing he knew. ’So. You have nothing meaningful to ask from him. That’s the perfect example why this night has no damned sense. You are tortured, you are forced to work, you are told everything, and then, just in the blink of an eye, you should come up with the same. But you can’t, and you know why? Not because you are so closed in here that you don’t have ideas of all the luxurious things you could ask for, oh, no, or because your, I mean any of the slaves’ perverted minds do not have desires of multiple ways to tease and humiliate us. You see what we eat, you ask for it, but this is not what you want, is it?’

All the fire in him made the younger one stare in awe and listen to his heartbeat only. ’What’s your point?’

He was so grateful to be able to listen to these words. No one else, but him.

’I want to end it.’

He replayed the words a thousand times in his mind, closing his eyes and inhaling it deep, deep into the core if his entity. Even if none of his dreams that quickly appeared in his imagination would become true, it was worth even thinking about them. ’Thank you.’

’”Thank you”? You’re saying thank you so easily. I haven’t done anything yet... no, I haven’t. I only said things, there’s a difference. What do you think he will draw?’

’Why is this important? I don’t really care. I just hope it does some good to him. I’m almost sure it won’t be a person.’

’Yeah. More like a flask of wine...’

’I just had to come up with something. The lack of creativity tortures me. It’s a matter of pride.’ Nar smiled. Freely, as he could only do with him. ’After all, he is my master...’ He sighed.

Zerlain looked deeply into his eyes. It was not hard to believe now that he could look into the depths of his soul, but hard to comprehend. So he just stared into the large, beautiful lake which seemed to hold eternity in itself. ’And what if it was me?’

He blinked. _Oh, if only..._ Nar wanted for the skies to open or the music of the spheres to be heard. Or for himself to wake up. But nothin happened, the whole stage of his unimaginable dreams did not disappear, he was still standing there facing his favourite silver-haired demon. He was sure his pointed ears were so, so red.

So were Zerlains’. Was it real fear that he could see on his face? Worries, besides the obvious agitation and excitement? ’What if I was your master? What would you ask of me?’ His voice was so silent he wasn’t sure it still could be called a voice, but his lips moved and his delicately angled face changed when he spoke. It was the thing he wanted the most. The thing he had wanted for years. 

’You like playing with fire?’ His heart was beating so fast. _You’re talking. You. What if they find... what if they find you? What exactly is your plan? Why do you say these things to him, why?!_

Zerlain let his glance leave his face for a while, just until he looked in the flames. The mischievous smile on his face again. Hope. Dangerous hope.

’Why not? It’s better to take risks by playing around fire than to drown.’

His voice sounded like the caressing warmth of the flames. Nar’s mind raced, he tried to form words and articulate them, just to cloud the sentence forming in his mind. He could not allow that to be heard. But how could he hide it? There was nothing he could say that meant anything. He wated to hide, run, turn away and run, run to his master and ask him to close him inside a room and let no one near.

To close himself in.

But no, he did not want that.

He wanted the spicy smell of smoke. He wanted the promise of the wild, the eccentric hope of the always new, he wanted to touch and feel and taste.

’Kiss me.’

The only way to face the inevitable was to... to face it. he felt like jumping off a cliff into the misty darkness. He stared into his eyes, his soul naked, open and so, so terrified. But for some reason he felt he shouldn’t have been.

All this felt so wonderful, the fire, the music from the not-so-far distance. He closed his eyes, he felt the older elf’s hands close in around him, the whole essence of his filling Nar’s senses, and finally, his lips touching his.

The strange kind of hot wetness firstly scared him, like everything, his whole soul wanted to reject anything that felt so... safe and welcoming. He stood there, awkwardly experimenting with the smallest movement of his sensitive lips. But he did not want to move. He did not want to change anything, since it was perfect the way it was. And for once in his life, he didn’t feel the urge that he is _expected_ to do something, in one exact way, the light at the end of the tunnel led to endless possibilities that felt... real.

Hope. Promise. Fire.

If he ever accepted drowning, he would want to do it now.

But no, his lungs devoured the hot air so hastily, since his agitated body needed more oxygen than ever.

When Zerlain let go of him slowly, coldness reaching the gap between their lips and causing him to shake and snuggle closer to him, hiding from every sheer aspect of the real world, he formed the words in himself, and tried to fight the impatience that seemed able to kill him.

But no... he had to stay alive... now more than ever.

Finally, he said it. ’Now take me out of here.’

 

 


End file.
